One by one, everyone I knew got a Facebook page. I would get random emails from Facebook, reminding me so-and-so wanted me to join. My friends would come up to me, begging me to get on Facebook, so it would be easier to keep in touch. It wasn’t until I was assigned an essay on Facebook in my English class that forced me to get involved. I said it was “for research purposes only,” but it became so much more than that.
I didn’t want a Facebook page, because I thought that if I got one, I wouldn’t be able to communicate with people face-to-face. It bothered me that someone would be talking to me in front of so many people instead of just texting me. I didn’t like how I could have 500 friends on Facebook, half of which I barely knew.
Before Facebook, I was on Twitter. For some reason, I thought Twitter was better. I liked the fact that Twitter was more news-y. I could follow politicians and celebrities. There were “Trending Topics” on the side, so it was easy to figure out what was going on in the world. I don’t even use Twitter anymore.
My English essay was about if there was any education to make teenagers more conscious about Internet safety on sites like Facebook. But, I realized, in order to do this properly, I needed a Facebook account. I groaned as if I was taking that bitter pill.
The first thing that Facebook did to win me over was the fact that the majority of the people I knew have Facebook pages. Barely anyone I knew had a Twitter. My friends from high school — whom I miss dearly, as we are all college Freshmen and hate being this far apart — had accounts. My new college friends had accounts. Even my mother had an account! And yes, I am friends with her. I believe that kids should be friends with their parents, but that’s my point of view.